Feelings to Understand, Fears to Overcome
by Mainstreetdancer
Summary: Now that they're done saving the world, Syrenne and Lowell have a more personal task ahead of them. How will they reconcile their feelings for each other with fears born of traumatic pasts? My version of how the Syrenne x Lowell story could play out. Definite spoilers!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** The setting is right after the final battle, when the group gets back into town. In the game they skip forward to where everything's on the mend, but I like to imagine what it would have been like for the group in those first few days after the final showdown.

If you haven't seen Lowell's backstory scene (it's in chapter 22 and easily missable), I suggest looking it up before reading this, since it will make his thoughts and actions a little more understandable. Anyway, here's my take on the post-game story of Syrenne and Lowell.

* * *

Everyone was exhausted. Lowell was putting on a brave face for Syrenne, but his temporary death had taken a toll on him. Syrenne had received some pretty fierce wounds herself and was trying to limp inconspicuously. It didn't work, but the others pretended not to notice. The two young mages were utterly spent; Yurick was shaking like a teacup in an earthquake and Mirania's stomach was making noises better suited to a particularly grumpy hound. Zael was supporting the weakened Calista, but seeing as he could barely support himself the endeavour was a precarious one. The city was a complete wreck. How could it ever be Lazulis City again? How could it ever again be anything but this ruined mess strewn with ruined people? Dagran.

Not one of them was fit to do anything more that night. They needed rest, and they needed it badly. Zael and Calista went to the castle to sleep in what was left of their bedchambers. The others mechanically made their way to Ariela's tavern, which was wrecked, but familiar and safe. Ariela herself was standing in the doorway, tears streaming down her cheeks. Nevertheless, she offered the ragged warriors a watery smile as they approached.

"You're alive. Does this mean it's over?"

All they could do was nod. Yurick stumbled and fell against a mound of rubble. Lowell was the one who finally found the strength to speak.

"Ariela. Glad to see you're safe. Do you think we could stay? We're not overly picky about our lodgings at the moment."

The young woman looked forlornly at the state of her father's tavern and sighed. "Of course, you all are welcome here, but I am dreadfully sorry about the state of the place. The rooms upstairs may have been spared. Go on."

As it turned out, the roof had caved in over two of the upstairs bedrooms, leaving the four friends to share the room previously occupied by the men in the group. Lowell immediately collapsed onto one of the beds, and heard the others do the same. Yet just as he was dozing off, he felt his bed shift and the warmth of a body settling beside him. A female body. One whose shape and smell he would recognize anywhere.

"Syrenne?" he whispered. Maybe it's a dream.

"Mhmm." She sounded more than half-asleep. "'m not leaving you...killed...need to be...with you..."

Lowell still hadn't figured out whether she was talking in her sleep or if she was awake but too exhausted to be coherent. It didn't matter much in any case. He smiled and pulled her against him, then fell asleep almost immediately.

The two of them were the last ones up in the morning, but when they went downstairs neither Mirania nor Yurick made any allusions to their bed-sharing. Now was not the time for feelings, or the discussion thereof. There was a city to rebuild, treaties to be made and peace to be spread.

While Zael and Calista took care of the political side of things up at the castle, the other four began helping the townspeople rebuild and relocate. They found temporary shelter for those whose homes were beyond repair, and helped the rest patch up their houses and gather provisions. Syrenne's dedication was made obvious by the fact that she restricted her cries for alcohol to just two short fits of frustration. Mirania was not quite as disciplined, merrily chattering away about all the food she wanted to eat as she healed injured townsfolk.

By the end of that first day the four of them were nearly as spent as they had been after the previous day's endless battles. With aching muscles and tired spirits, they returned to the tavern for the night, but Syrenne grabbed Lowell's arm and held him back when the other two went up to their room.

"Lowell..."

He lowered his eyes and spoke without looking at her. "It's all right, love, I know that's all you needed. Warmth and comfort aren't the usual services I provide for women who climb into my bed, but you're a special case. In more ways than one," he finished with a light chuckle.

"Lowell..."

He turned to face her and immediately ceased his prattling upon seeing the look on her face. An imploring look, filled with sorrow and pain and, and, was that longing? That's called wishful thinking, you sorry chap.

But wishful thinking was smothered in reality as Syrenne leaned in and kissed him, grasping his shirt in desperate fists. Lowell's arms wrapped around her of their own volition and so they remained, clinging together as if their lives depended on it, for several minutes. Finally, Syrenne spoke her first full sentence of the evening.

"You're wrong, you idiot. You're an immature, overconfident, womanizing arse, but I love you. And I almost lost you yesterday. We're bloody mercenaries, Lowell; any day could be our last. I don't want to waste any more time."

She had tears in her eyes – a rare event for Syrenne. The death and destruction that had ravaged the city had visibly shaken her. Every member of the group had seen their share of things they would rather unsee, but this war was on a whole new level. An entire city, formerly strong and proud, driven to the ground by one man's lust for power. The Gurak women and children, slaughtered like so many pigs by the Count's so-called knights. And Dagran. Dagran. The events of the past few months had shaken them all, and Lowell understood Syrenne's insecurity perfectly.

Perhaps it was this insecurity, mirrored in his own mind, that made Lowell put action before thought. He scooped her up, this woman he wouldn't admit he loved, and brought her to her former bedroom. He hastily cleared some debris from the nearest bed, not caring that the chamber lacked a ceiling, and enveloped Syrenne in his arms once more. Their lovemaking was frantic and desperate, a perfect metaphor for their emotional state. Clothes were strewn about the ravaged room like the bodies about the city; hands blindly groped for a holdfast, mouths clumsily found each other in the dark. It was anything but the slow, romantic encounter Syrenne had secretly dreamt of in the past, but this was what she needed – it was what they both needed.

Afterwards, with a chill wind blowing on them from the lack of roof, the two of them collected their things without speaking and went to the other room, where Mirania and Yurick were fast asleep. Syrenne did not climb into Lowell's bed this time, and Lowell lay awake for most of the night, stuck inside his head where his feelings and his fears were waging heavy war.

* * *

To be continued. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's part two, finally. I didn't originally intend for this to be exclusively from Lowell's point of view, but that's how it turned out.

* * *

Her name was Amara. The first girl he fell in love with. That was in Lowell's pre-rebellion days, when he belonged to the world of nobility. She was a rich girl with a proper upbringing, and couldn't hope to defend herself when those thugs attacked them for their money one night. Lowell had done everything he could, but they were outnumbered and she was defenceless. A stray knife stroke later, Amara was lying limply in Lowell's arms and he was sure he would never be happy again. On that night, he swore to train and become stronger – strong enough to protect his loved ones in the future. He had studied magic since childhood, but in addition to furthering his skills as a mage, Lowell dedicated himself to the art of the sword and aimed to be proficient in physical as well as magical combat.

Of course, all the strength in the world couldn't fight off disease, and so a few years later, his new love died, and once again Lowell was powerless to prevent it.

Nothing changed over the years: the few other women he tentatively fell for met the same fate, always under unlucky circumstances that Lowell could neither have predicted nor done anything about. Once he decided to renounce love and stick to shallow relationships, his life became significantly easier to bear. And then along came Syrenne – the beautiful, fiery, strong, feisty, wonderful challenge of a woman who unwittingly reeled Lowell in until he was completely at her mercy. And to think she had almost died on him too! When that spell of Zesha's had gone flying at her back, Lowell had flatly refused to let it happen again; if anyone was going to die, it was his turn, damn it! And so, for the first time, he had been able to save the life of the woman he loved.

"Maybe that's a sign, mate," he mumbled to himself. "Maybe it'll be ok, with her." The thought was tempting, but did little to alleviate the terror.

Thus were Lowell's thoughts occupied in the days after Syrenne's confession and the rather hasty physical manifestation thereof. Lowell knew the proper thing to do now was propose. They hadn't been very careful, after all; for all they knew she could be...but no, he didn't want to think about that. It was bad enough that Syrenne's lifeless body plagued his dreams and thoughts; he didn't need a child's corpse added to the mental images. Irrational though it was, Lowell could not shake the conviction that everyone he loved was doomed, and so perhaps it was not surprising that he couldn't manage to get the words out to Syrenne. Besides, they had other fish on their plates. The team worked to restore the city every day without complaint, their labours punctuated only by a meeting to discuss their fallen leader. It was decided that they would make him a simple grave (Dagran was never one for elaborate decor) and have a small service to honour him, with just the six of them. Lowell volunteered to take charge of the preparations, partly to keep his mind off his inner turmoil. Meanwhile, Zael and Calista came to an agreement with the Gurak, who mostly returned to their continent (though some chose to remain on the island), and Lazulis Island was moved to a new locale. With all this work keeping them busy, it was just possible for Lowell to avoid facing his situation for the time being.

A few weeks after the defeat of Zangurak, the small troupe found itself underground again, with an imminent Reptid uprising on their hands. By this point Syrenne's hopeful glances and playful banter had long turned to glares and blatant insults. Lowell, for his part, dealt with his emotions in the only way he knew how: hiding them behind jokes and bravado. The underlying tension between them was thicker than the Reptids' skulls, and their ceaseless squabbling was driving the others mad.

"Things not going well with them two?" Yurick covertly asked while the bickering couple were out of earshot.

"Well, you could always just ask them yourself." Mirania was more than perceptive enough to guess the general problem, but she wasn't in the mood for explaining the obvious at that moment. Someone had eaten her bag of food that morning and her rumbling stomach was not impressed with the perpetrator.

"I might give that a miss," scoffed Yurick, picturing his neck between Syrenne's swords.

Zael was exasperated enough by the whole episode to take Lowell aside once they were back above ground. He steered the older man to Ariela's, bought him a drink, and decided to question him point-blank. "Lowell, what in the world is going on between you and Syrenne? Even Yurick noticed how weird you two are acting, and that's saying something."

Lowell took a deep swig of ale and sighed. "Zael, do you remember what I told you, about my past?"

"Yeah, of course I do. What of it?"

"Syrenne. I love her, Zael. I love her and she loves me and I want to spend my life with her. I want to open that bar with her and build a life together, you know? Hold her when she's upset, talk and joke around with her every day, take long walks along the river and watch the sun set. How unmanly does that make me sound? Wait, I also really, really want her in my bed every night. There, better."

It was so rare to hear Lowell open up like this that for fear of discouragement Zael simply nodded his head and waited for him to continue.

"But it's like I told you before. I'm cursed. Everyone I love is doomed, and that's the truth of the matter." Lowell took another drink and glared down at his tankard as if waiting for it to explain where he went wrong.

"Lowell, you know that's ridiculous. You've had terrible luck in the past, I'll grant you that. But you've not laid a curse on Syrenne by falling in love with her, and you know it."

"Aye, I do on some level. But I'm terrified, Zael. If anything happens to her – and it very well could, she's a fighter like the rest of us – I'll blame myself for the rest of my life. How can I live with that?"

Zael couldn't quite figure out how to respond, but he was spared the need by Mirania, who swooped in out of nowhere and sat at their table.

"I think you're being quite selfish," was all she said by way of greeting.

"What – you were listening?!"

"Yes," was her unapologetic response. "Now, Lowell, you should know that Syrenne is badly hurt. She's been yelling at people and getting into fights left and right, you know – even more than usual. It's obviously because she thinks you don't love her, and she's upset. So you should stop thinking about yourself and go set things right with her before she does something stupid."

Mirania's stark manner of putting things, though sometimes a bit harsh, was undeniably effective. Neither of the men could deny the truth of her words, and Lowell's expression was reminiscent of a whipped schoolboy.

"Aye," he said softly. "I haven't said a serious word to her since we—uh, I mean, since she told me she loved me. The day after the big battle."

Zael whistled. "Now _that _loses you manliness points."

Suddenly panic-stricken, Lowell got up and left the tavern without another word. _Before she does something stupid..._Syrenne, of course, was the type to do just that. Lowell knew fighting was Syrenne's preferred method of decompression, and she hadn't followed the others back into the city after their skirmish in the Reptid catacombs. They all knew there were doubtlessly other Reptid lairs nearby. _Surely she wouldn't take on a cave full of them on her own._ As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that was exactly what she would be doing. Lowell broke into a run.

It was the yells that alerted him, before he got anywhere near Syrenne's location. Her battle cries, laden with frustration and heartbreak and sheer primal rage, echoed in the wilderness. _Well at least she's alive. _Lowell followed the clamour and jumped into the fray, his back to Syrenne's, ready to cover her. They fought side-by-side, effortlessly reading and anticipating each other in a flawless choreography of magic and swordplay and dodging and guarding, until the rabble of Reptids was annihilated. Lowell's exclamation of victory, however, was cut short by a fist to the gut and a full-body tackle. Next thing he knew he was pinned to the ground with a sharp blade hovering above his neck and, to his extreme discomfiture, another pointing between his legs.

"Which one should I cut off first?"

Lowell had never before heard Syrenne sound quite this angry, which was truly saying something. Her teeth were gritted, he breathing heavy, her eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice sounded more like the snarl of a tigress than any human utterance. All he could do was stare helplessly up at her.

"I knew you'd do anything to get a woman in your bed, you filthy son of a bitch, but I guess I didn't realize just how far you'd go. You made me trust you. Me, trust a man! Well I bloody well learned my lesson, and you're bloody well going to learn yours!"

"Syrenne stop it! It wasn't like that! Please listen to me!"

"Shut up! You died for me, Lowell! I thought that meant something, but I guess you just wanted to play the hero for once. I guess you were sick of Dagran and Zael getting all the attention. You manipulative bastard! I hate you!" Nearly hysterical by this point, she raised both blades above Lowell's head.

Whether she really would have carried out the home thrust was a question no one could answer, but in the moment all Lowell thought to do was shriek, "Syrenne, I love you!"

The swords remained in the air.

"Please, Syrenne, you insane woman. You mean more to me than life itself, and _that _is why I died for you. What we did that night was a stupid decision. I wanted to marry you. I wanted our first time together to be in an actual bedroom with, you know, a roof—preferably one that belongs to us—and I wanted it to be long and romantic and unforgettable. I've imagined it an embarrassing number of times. But we were both upset and we did what we did and I wasn't ready, Syrenne. I wasn't ready to deal with my feelings for you. It's my fault, and I'm sorry. But if you'll just listen to me, I can explain." He knew he was babbling and made himself stop. For a few tense moments, the swords lingered above Lowell's body, but then they slowly flopped to either side and clattered onto the ground. Their wielder soon followed, abandoning her battle stance and sinking down to her knees.

Lowell told her everything he had told Zael, and more. He tried his best to make her understand the fear that held him back; appreciate that he didn't sleep around because he found it fulfilling, but because it kept away the pain.

"It's like the longer I go without a serious relationship, the more blown up the fear gets, you know? After that night, I wanted to tell you I loved you, and I wanted to ask you to marry me, but...I dunno, I just couldn't. I know that was selfish of me, and there's nothing I can do now but ask you to forgive me. And...well I know this is not exactly the most romantic of settings, but please, Syrenne, marry me. I love you and I want us to always be a team. We make a pretty damn good one, I'm sure those Reptids would agree."

Syrenne stayed silent for so long that Lowell began uneasily eyeing the twin swords that were still innocently lying on the ground, but she did not pick them up. She simply rose, brushed the dirt off her knees, and walked away without a word.

The baffled Lowell eventually regained enough wits to pick himself up and scramble after her, carrying her weapons as well as his own. He caught up to her outside the South Gate, out of breath and confused.

"Uh, Syrenne, your swords?"

She took them and sheathed them, staring down at the ground. After a few beats, she finally looked up and stared Lowell in the eyes, for the first time since his repentance speech. "Yeah, I'll marry you. But you owe me one hell of a lot of drinks for what you put me through, you coward."

Lowell's wide-eyed look of incredulity was so ridiculous that Syrenne actually laughed out loud. The sound of her laughter jolted him back to reality and, abandoning all self-restraint, he threw his arms around her in an outburst of joy. The relief and excitement coursing through him were more than enough to convince him he had done the right thing. As he clutched his fiancée to his breast and felt the weight of the past lift of his shoulders, he realized that all those years of being governed by fear were just a prelude to this moment of release.

Lowell was free.

* * *

And there you have it. I don't think this part turned out as well as the first one, but maybe I'm just too picky. I'm also a bit disappointed that I wasn't able to work the other characters in more, because I love them all, but I suppose that will be a task for another story. Cheers!


End file.
